Riz stacked the shelves, again. Cans went up only to come down in the most haphazard of fashions. He placed them with care. Each individual can facing forward so its label was visible. Towers of them were never more than two cans high. And he never set them above head height.
The storeroom was his domain. As was the armory, the toolroom, and really anything at all that needed to be stored. The captain let Riz have his way with these rooms because Riz wanted to maintain them. He was the only one who didn’t grumble about the work. Yet the captain often wondered what was worse - crew complaining about such drudgery or Riz ranting about people messing with his system for storage.
Only Riz knew it. Which was great when he was on shift. But the moment he was off or in an emergency then it was a scramble to decipher where anything was. The captain had words with him about it but to no avail.
Riz tried to understand the captain’s orders, but they made no sense. Things should be stacked and stored in the most orderly manner. Take these beans - the crew ate an awful lot of them for a group of people confined to a ship. And so had more than just about anything else in the larder. The chef wanted them upfront. But that would put them out of order. And if there was no order then Riz was in trouble.
Today’s art is courtesy of Andrew Fujinaka from Milwaukee, Wisconsin.